I Adored You
by INMH
Summary: Belated fill for mistress britt on Livejournal for her prompt: Castiel/Rachel- "I adored you".


I Adored You

Rating: R/M

Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst/Tragedy  
>Summary: Belated fill for mistress_britt on Livejournal for her prompt: CastielRachel- "I adored you".

Author's Note: GAAAAAH I should be working on the dozens of other Rachel-related stories I have started but I SAW this PROMPT and it CALLED TO ME, and then I thought WAIT THE TIME FOR FILLING PROMPTS HAS CLOSED IN THIS COMMUNITY and then I'm like SCREW IT I'LL DO IT ANYWAY.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Eric Kripke does.

()()

ARGH.

If you see any words clumped together, don't blame me. I know how to use a space-key. It's FFnet that's doing it.

()()

When Castiel rebelled, Rachel was sad.

Castiel was her brother, her friend, and when he blatantly went against their superiors and God's plan, she knew that his existence was as good as over, because if any of them caught him, they would be forced to kill him. He was a traitor to heaven and to God and deserved no less, however much it pained her.

When Lucifer destroyed Castiel with the snap of his fingers, Rachel was heartbroken. He had stood against Lucifer and had shivered a little, but did not run away, did not plead, did not back down. He went frightened, but straight-backed and convinced that what he was doing was right, and she could commend him on his bravery. Many lesser angels quivered at the thought of Lucifer's power.

When he showed up in heaven some hours later, Rachel was stunned.

"But Castiel, we saw Lucifer destroy you."

And he had. She had seen. All of heaven had been turned to watch Lucifer and Michael and their battle, and everyone saw the Winchesters and Bobby Singer and Castiel's interference. Everyone saw Castiel's death.

Her mind raced. This was an oddity: Angelic resurrection was even more rare than human resurrection. Humans could use black magic and make deals with demons; they had options. But when angels died, they stayed dead.

So, Rachel reasoned, it had to be God.

God was the only one with the power to raise angels from the dead. God was the only one with the knowledge and the strength. Even a human making a demon deal couldn't bring an angel back to life. It had to be their all-knowing Father.

"No one leads us anymore," Castiel told the assembled angels who greeted him in heaven. "We're all free to make our own choices. To choose our own fates."

Rachel had been perplexed. "But… What does God want?"

Castiel had looked her in the eyes and said "God _wants_ you to have freedom."

Rachel knew about the concept of freedom, of course. Free will was a creation of her Father's; and it had previously been common to just about every race but her own.

"But what does he want us to do with it?" She pressed.

Castiel seemed to have trouble answering that question. But over the next few weeks he tried, and none of the angels listened as closely to what he said as Rachel.

Their purpose, as angels, was to do God's will. That meant listening to orders and carrying them out without question, because God's will and purpose were perfect and need not be questioned. They had never needed free will before beyond the ability to make split-second judgments in battles or situations where they could not immediately contact their superiors.

Rachel spent a lot of time with Castiel over those first few weeks. Castiel was passionate about this, and though the idea of making her own decisions was both confusing and even a little frightening, she was determined to get a grasp on it.

"God wants us to make our own choices." She said slowly, the words odd on her tongue as she couldn't quite wrap her mind around them. She and Castiel were seated on a bench in the park in Castiel's preferred heaven. Castiel nodded, and she could see the hope in his eyes as he saw her try.

"Yes. He wants us to choose what to do for ourselves."

"But…" Rachel bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in thought. "But He must have a _plan_ for us. He must want us to make certain choices to satisfy that plan. What ones does He want us to make?"

"Rachel-" She could hear the biting frustration in his voice and knew that she was still failing to grasp something here, and she was disappointed that she was having such trouble with this lesson. She'd always been a fast learner otherwise. But Castiel took a deep, deep breath and changed his tone. "Rachel… Our Father does not have a _plan_ right now. He is… Not here. There is no plan, no orders of His that we have to follow. _We have to fend for ourselves_."

She'd been having some trouble believing that God had really gone missing, but Castiel would not lie to her. He was good and honest and loved God every bit as much as she did. Would God have brought him back if he were anything less?

Rachel sighed, thought for a moment, and then went on. "God wants us to demonstrate free will… So that… We might… Handle…? Ourselves…? In his absence?" She brightened to see Castiel nodding.

"Yes. You're on the right track."

()()

In time she understood; _really_ understood, rather than simply wondering and possibly believing. God was not here. Not right now. He hadn't been around for a while. And the likes of Michael and Raphael had been calling the shots in his absence. It was they that pushed the hands on the doomsday clock closer to midnight and started the apocalypse because they were tired of having to deal with humans and demons.

Now Raphael was pushing for power as well, because he wanted to continue that mission to release Michael and Lucifer and have them destroy the vast majority of the planet and every living thing on it.

Castiel, on the other hand, had worked closely with humans, and admitted that although they were flawed, they had many admirable traits. Fighting to keep them alive was a worthy cause, and it wasn't fair to let them perish in a fight that was being fought between two brothers for the sake of their own peace.

"However the battle turns out," Castiel explained, "Humanity loses. If Michael wins, most of the planet is destroyed and most of humanity is wiped out. If Lucifer wins, the same conditions apply, only he will hunt down and destroy the rest of them as well. Whatever happens, humanity suffers, and whatever their faults, they don't deserve to die in a battle that has little to nothing to do with them."

And Rachel understood.

"Castiel," She said quietly. "You've changed." And he had. He had once been a quiet soldier, taking and following orders without question. And the way he'd handled himself, she would have never guessed that he, of all of the angels, would be one to rebel.

She could see now how much he had given up when he'd allied himself with the Winchesters against heaven. Many had despised him, called him the next Lucifer, said that he deserved to die for his treachery. He had been cut off from the Host and had lost most of his power, had even lost his faith in God for a time.

While some angels might be shocked or horrified to hear that he had lost faith in their Father, Rachel was deeply saddened. Their Father's love and mercy was what kept them fighting, kept them content. To lose faith, to feel as though he was without that love must have been terrible and lonely. And though she'd never met the Winchesters, she imagined that they couldn't quite sympathize with the level of devotion angels had to God, and what it meant to believe that he had abandoned them and that all of their orders had been falsified.

Castiel sighed. "I suppose I have." He looked tired, and Rachel put a hand over his.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way." She smiled at him, and he managed a small but utterly genuine one back.

"Thank you, Rachel."

There was a pause. Rachel shuffled a little on the bench. She had taken a vessel the week before, and the black pantsuit she'd been accustomed to had been replaced by a simple, pale blue shirt, darker blue jacket and jeans. It felt pleasantly new and different. She found herself liking that combination more and more now.

Her vessel was a housewife from Sacramento who'd been a punching bag for an abusive husband for the past decade, and after seeing those memories in the woman's mind, Rachel had taken a degree of pleasure in grabbing the man by the throat and warning him never to lay a hand on her again. She had told Castiel the story later on and he'd chuckled. "He must have been terrified."

"As well he should be." Even when she was still thoroughly obedient and unquestioning, most of their garrison knew it was unwise to test her temper.

Having not taken a vessel in over two-thousand years, Rachel would, normally, have been using the time to get accustomed to the feeling. But at the moment, she didn't have time for that because there was a much more pressing matter at hand.

"Raphael's summoned you." She said to Castiel. He nodded, eyes shut.

"How did you hear?" Rachel tilted her head a little.

"Come now, Castiel. You know gossip is one of the few leisure activities our commanders don't try to stamp out."

"Because they knew they'd be unsuccessful," Castiel muttered. "I suppose there's not so much harm in it so long as it isn't false." He had a point; they couldn't begrudge the truth, not now.

"What do you think he wants?"

Now it was Castiel who shuffled around a bit and averted his eyes. "Nothing pleasant, I'm sure. Our last…" He trailed off and didn't finish. But he should have been more careful when prompting Rachel to ask questions, because it was all she was doing now, left and right.

"Your last what? Did you meet with him before?" Castiel rolled his shoulders a little, wincing.

"…Yes."

"And?"

"And it didn't end well."

"How did it end?"

"I already told you: Not well."

"That's too vague." Before he could stop himself, Castiel broke out into a wide and uncontained grin.

"I think I've created a monster." Rachel shrugged.

"You told me to question."

"Yes, I did." He agreed, rubbing his eyes. "I… It was shortly after Lucifer was released from the cage. I was convinced that God was the only one who could put a stop to the apocalypse. I had heard that Raphael and a few angels had touched down in Maine to skirmish with some demons, and I enlisted Dean Winchester to help me… Capture and interrogate him."

Rachel was already fully aware that Castiel had been brought back by God twice; the second time at Stull Cemetery, the first at the Prophet Chuck's house when Castiel tried in vain to help Dean Winchester keep Sam Winchester from breaking Lucifer out of the cage. She already had an idea as to how meeting with Raphael now might be bad, and was curious to find out how Castiel could have made it any worse.

"Did you succeed?"

"Yes."

"And what did you do that made him so irritated?" He must have been hoping that she wouldn't ask that, because he broke eye contact with her again and coughed slightly.

"When I was… Calling… Raphael down through his vessel… My wording my have been inflammatory." Castiel had created a monster, because Rachel was so curious now she wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect detail.

"Inflammatory in what way?"

Castiel huffed a laugh. "I believe my exact wording was… 'Come and get me, you little bastard'." Rachel gasped. The phrase 'insulting an archangel' was more or less synonymous with 'suicide'. "And then, once we had him trapped in a ring of holy fire, I… Left him there, and told him that for that night, he was my little bitch."

If it were any other angel he was talking about, Rachel might have laughed. If it were any other angel than the one that he was going to have to meet with tomorrow morning, she would laugh. But Raphael was not famed for his patience, mercy or forgiveness, and so she knew that Castiel was more or less walking into a firestorm tomorrow. Raphael would kill him, or worse.

"Castiel… Where was your sense?" He blushed.

"I was caught up in the moment. And I assumed I was going to get killed at one point or another in the near future, so I thought I might as well tell Raphael what I really thought of him." Rachel smiled sadly.

"That wasn't wise."

"Perhaps not." Castiel paused. "But it made me feel better."

He squeezed her hand, and she had completely forgotten that they had been touching.

()()

The next day, Rachel went to Castiel's preferred heaven and found that he wasn't there. And if he wasn't there, in his favorite place, he was probably off facing Raphael. Tabris confirmed it, having been in the proximity of the heaven that Raphael was currently borrowing. When asked what she had been doing within proximity of Raphael's location, Tabris had shrugged and moseyed on as though she had no idea what her sister was getting at.

In retrospect, she shouldn't have been surprised. Tabris and Balthazar had always been close.

Rachel was not unfamiliar with Raphael's methods of persuasion. She'd seen him punishing other disobedient angels before, and she knew for a fact that the angels under his command were often involved in punishing disobedient angels, and had likely been involved in Castiel's initial punishment as well when he first disobeyed.

The point was, it wasn't impossible that Castiel might come back changed (if he came back at all). Raphael had to know that Castiel was preaching freedom, and he wouldn't like that. Breaking Castiel might convince anyone who was starting to turn towards his ideology to quit now while they had a chance. Killing him would only inspire anger. But he would only kill Castiel if he refused to break or renounce his message.

Rachel took a seat on the bench in the park and waited, hands folded, foot tapping slightly in nervousness. She longed for their Father's intervention, for Him to step in and say what was right. And now, now it was no longer satisfying for the archangels to hand down orders. At least not to her. She wanted to hear His word for herself. She may not have been the oldest or the youngest, but she was God's daughter, and she deserved to hear and see Him for herself, to hear what He wanted and know it was the truth.

Rachel froze. It was a very bold, bold thought to have. The Host had always taken orders from God through the archangels. God had never contacted any other angel- with the exception of Joshua- directly before. The archangels were the only line they had to Him, and suggesting that they were unreliable was… Rude? Disobedient? Troublesome?

Maybe all of them.

Archangels were the deadliest weapons in heaven's arsenal, and as such, they were the undisputed leaders of the Host. Though it had never been explicitly stated, it seemed that the sentiment was more or less that they were the only ones worthy to speak with God. Implying that any other angel had just as much right to speak with God would upset the status-quo that had dominated heaven for millennia.

Rachel huffed slightly, twisting her hands. It needed to change. Things had to change. How could the Host have become so corrupt? How could the archangels have ever dared to hand down orders that were noncompliant with God's will? Shame on them. Shame. Things had to be put right, and once they were, they would follow God's will as best they could until He returned and told them what do to from there on.

Yes. When their Father returned.

That would be a good day.

_THUMP._

Rachel whirled around, still seated, to see Raphael towering over Castiel, who was lying on his side in the grass. His vessel's dark hair was matted with blood, and as he pushed himself up she could see him spitting blood. But Rachel went still, limbs locking. Raphael hadn't noticed her, and she wasn't certain yet if her presence would be more help or harm to Castiel at that moment.

Raphael looked down at Castiel and said something she couldn't hear. He then lifted his head, saw Rachel, regarded her for but a second, and then disappeared. Only when he was gone did she rush to check on her brother.

"Castiel- Are you all right?" She gently helped him into a sitting position. His mouth and nose were covered in blood as well, and when he coughed more blood appeared. Raphael must have ruptured something in him.

"_Kff._ I'll live. For now." He grimaced and wiped his mouth, looking less than pleased at the amount of blood that clung to his hand and sleeve.

"What happened?"

Castiel shut his eyes. "Evidently… I will bow before Raphael tomorrow or be destroyed. Along with anyone who supports me." He gave her a pointed look that seemed to say _And by that I'm assuming he's included you._

This was direct, but not unexpected. Raphael was not the type who enjoyed being challenged. And with Michael in the cage, he was right at the position to gain some serious power. He wasn't about to let some insignificant, rebellious little foot-soldier stand against him.

"He wants you to _bow_ to _him?_" Rachel felt anger race up and down the spine that was not technically hers. Angels should only bow before God. Respect for their higher-ups was all well and good, but claiming obedience to anyone but Him, claiming obedience to Raphael- if it wasn't blasphemy, it was a small step from it.

"Yes." Castiel rested some of his weight against Rachel, and it was then that it occurred to her that she should try to heal him. An angel healing a human was easy, simple. An angel healing another angel was more complex, lengthy. Thankfully, Raphael hadn't beaten Castiel _too_ badly. After all, one can't bow if they were never standing in the first place.

They were both silent as she went about mending his wounds. The hand not busy healing was wrapped around his back to keep him at least somewhat upright and rested on his head, fingers sliding through his hair. She wanted to hurry, wanted to make him better as quickly as possible, but knew that as soon as she did they would have to discuss Castiel's intended course of action. And she wasn't certain she was going to like what he was going to say.

After a few minutes, it seemed that Castiel was leaning against Rachel for a different kind of support. One that she was happy to but wishing she didn't have to give. And when she was finished, Rachel merely set her hand on her lap and let the other fall from Castiel's hair and onto his shoulder. She didn't try to look him in the eye, and he didn't move to either.

They didn't keep track of the time, and for all they knew, they might have sat there for hours. But Rachel knew they had to address this, this problem that meant a lot to not just them, but other angels that had shown support for Castiel since he'd returned to heaven. If there was a course of action to be taken, it should be taken now.

"Castiel," She asked. "What will you do?"

For a long moment, he didn't respond. He did, however, slowly pull away from where his head had lain on her shoulder and moved to sit facing her. Castiel's head, however, was bowed, and his shoulders slumped. He looked defeated even before the fight had started, and she knew what the answer would be before he even opened his mouth.

"I don't know."

()()

Rachel debated over what would be worse: Dying at Raphael's hand, which would be unpleasant on so many different levels (Raphael had no imagination except when it involved punishments), or living and knowing that she hadn't stood beside Castiel in support of his message, which she believed to be right and good, and having to continue to live under a regime she knew to be corrupt. And since these new ideals of freedom had taken hold of her so strongly, it would be very likely that she would either end up dead or punished in that way no angel wants to be punished.

Death was looking like the more honorable path.

But Castiel wanted her to live. "If I bow tomorrow," Castiel had said lifelessly, "It will only be because I want to find another way to stop Raphael. But I…" Still managing to avoid her eyes, he had looked straight up at the sky. "… I don't think I can stomach submitting to him. I really don't." Only then had he met her eyes, and she had been shaken by the fear she saw in them. "Distance yourself from me now, Rachel, and Raphael might leave you alone."

Even after that, Rachel couldn't say either way which path she thought Castiel would take.

If he resisted, he would be killed. If he submitted, he would have the fight beaten out of him again, and then later on when Castiel undoubtedly rebelled again, he would finally be killed. Death seemed like the only certainty.

But whatever Castiel chose, Rachel knew she would have to stick by him. She couldn't abandon him. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if Castiel refused to bow and was killed and she stood by and pretended like he had been wrong and bad and Raphael was in the right. Would she ever be able to look at Raphael again and feel anything but the strongest hatred?

For the next twelve or so hours, Rachel retreated to her own preferred heaven. It was like something out of a movie, something that most humans would never believe could exist outside of an artist's creation. But then, her Father was an artist, and this place, originally on earth, was in fact his creation. It was a dark summer's night in a forest somewhere in Vermont.

The woman it belonged to had been brought there by her would-be husband for their first date when she was nineteen and he was twenty-two. It had been June, and they had sat by the edge of a pond in the woods and watched the fireflies blink on and off, their yellow-tinted lights flickering, paled compared to the full moon that had been peeking through the treetops.

It was beautiful, it was quiet, and it was exactly what Rachel enjoyed. Especially in moments like these.

She sat on the edge of the pond opposite of the woman and her husband, invisible and intangible to them, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She took in the sights of the personalized slice of heaven and considered that she might not see it again once she left. Would Raphael kill her and anyone else who spoke up for Castiel immediately, or would he do it later on? Immediately seemed more likely. He would want to set an example for others who might consider rebellion.

Rachel shut her eyes. _Father, do something. Please. If we ever meant anything to You as Your children and not just as soldiers, do something. Give us- give **me** a sign._

She waited, listening intently, but there was nothing.

Prayers not answered personally by God were hardly a rarity, but Rachel felt the sting of this one particularly well. It was near to blasphemy, but she couldn't help but think that God had abandoned them. He just did _not_ care. And just about any being of any species felt the sting of an uncaring parent.

_Father, what did we do to deserve this? What did **I** do? Or Castiel? Or Tabris, or Balthazar, or Nuriel, or Selaphiel, or Camael or Elijah? What could **all** of us have done to deserve your indifference? Fathers are supposed to protect their children, support them, and when we needed you and need you the most, you've abandoned the children who love you, left us at the mercy of ruthless older brothers-_

Rachel got a hold of herself and was shocked to realize how angry her prayer had become.

Giving an angry prayer to God, at least in her eyes, was like a child badmouthing their parent with the door cracked open: Risky, because said parent could walk by at any moment, hear the remarks and tan that child's hide in response. Even if she believed that God was not listening, she was nervous that He _might_ be, and didn't want to find out the hard way by experiencing His wrath.

Rachel's panic, however, was suddenly interrupted by a voice echoing across heaven.

"_There will be **no apocalypse**,_" Castiel's voice said, strong and hard. "_And let it be known: You're either with **Raphael, **or you're with **me!**_"

Then his voice disappeared.

Rachel stared, open-mouthed, at the occluded sky for a moment longer. The woman and her husband might have heard something, because they glanced up for a moment, but would not have been able to understand it. Castiel had spoken on an 'angels-only' frequency, so to speak.

When the shock wore off, Rachel stood up and tried to decide what she was supposed to do. Would Castiel have gone back to his preferred heaven, where Raphael could find him the easiest? Or would he go to earth, where Raphael would be harder pressed to find him? But then, why would he go to earth when he had just drawn a line in the sand and said 'pick a side'?

"Rachel."

…Or maybe he would come to find her.

"Castiel!" Rachel was surprised. Gone was the air of desolation that had been about him when he had last spoken with her. Now he looked strong again, in control, confident. He smiled a little at her, and his vessel's large blue eyes seemed to glow with energy. Oddly enough, literally.

"I banished him." Castiel said, breathing hard. "Raphael was taken off-guard. He wasn't expecting it. He'll need time to recuperate."

"You _attacked_ Raphael?"

"Yes." The confidence seemed to flicker out and the gravity of what he'd done began to settle in. "I attacked Raphael."

"And started a war." Rachel was aware and completely uncaring that she sounded a touch queasy. This was a queasy topic.

"Yes."

"Castiel, what- What- _How_ are we supposed to beat Raphael?"

Rachel would look back on this moment a year and a half later and want to vomit.

"I… Have a plan."

()()

Castiel took charge.

And he did it _well_.

Rachel watched in awe as he organized the angels who chose to follow them, encouraging those who were more familiar with the concept of free will and why it was a good thing to relate their knowledge to those who were less than familiar with it. He told them why he struck out against Raphael and gave them a chance to back out now if they were having second thoughts, telling them bluntly that if they lost the war, Raphael would most certainly kill them. He warned them of their weaknesses in comparison, reminded them all about Raphael's strength.

He also told them that God was out of the picture, and that it was Raphael who would call the shots if he won. He asked them if they wanted that, to live and follow orders that were not their Father's, or to die knowing that they resisted Raphael and his attempt to gain control and do things his own way. In this sense, he said, Raphael was also demonstrating free will. That apparently, free will was fine so long as Raphael was the only one truly using it.

Once everyone had chosen a side, Rachel could tell that Castiel was both heartened- and floored- by the fact that heaven was split just about down the middle. Raphael had more on his side, but not by many. It was an almost even match, and she could tell that it had exceeded Castiel's hopes. His confidence boosted, Castiel would lead them into battle seven times over the next three months. Three would end in a draw. Two wins would go to them, and two would go to Raphael.

Castiel had made Rachel, the one who'd dedicated those first few weeks following his return to understanding freedom and what they should be fighting for, his lieutenant, and she was honored. She knew the moment he asked her if she was up to the position that she would do everything in her power to succeed, to make Castiel proud of his decision to give her this gift, this show of trust.

Rachel's admiration for him deepened by the day. Castiel had a tremendous weight on his shoulders, and she admired the way he took it all on and never complained, committing himself one-hundred percent to the cause. He was an inspiration to the army of angels that followed him, a devoted and caring leader that, come what may, would stand by them.

She had never been prouder to serve with him.

()()

The war went on.

By month six, things had gotten to something of a frustrating standstill. They hadn't won any decisive victories, but neither had Raphael. All they'd gotten was a bunch of dead brothers and sisters and a kind of exhaustion they'd never felt before.

Rachel had been particularly grieved when, in the fifth month of the war, they lost Balthazar in a surprise attack led by Nemamiah and five other angels. Balthazar had been one of the wittiest angels in her and Castiel's garrison, and his ability to be humorous even in these grim times had been a comfort. Castiel had been more or less heartbroken; he and Balthazar had been very, very close. As there were too many angels to have what humans considered to be traditional sibling relationships with all of them, some angels were closer than others. Some were more like friends than siblings, while others were more like brothers and sisters.

Balthazar had been, in every way, Castiel's big brother, the one he'd looked up to since their creation, the one who'd led him and taught him and cheered him on. Even when Castiel had been all but cast out, Balthazar had been tight-lipped on his opinion on the matter, and now Rachel suspected that he was trying to restrain his true thoughts and feelings: If Castiel was rebelling, then it was probably for a good reason.

Aside from Rachel, Balthazar had been one of Castiel's closest confidantes. The loss of a brother, friend and spectacular soldier had dealt a serious blow to many, especially Castiel. The days following his death were quiet and mournful.

While Rachel had expected Castiel to mourn right along with them, she became alarmed when he disappeared one day and she, for all her searching, could not find him. She eventually realized that he must have gone to earth, and immediately set about tracking him down to make sure he hadn't been ambushed or captured.

Her search yielded surprising results.

Castiel was not dead, maimed or captured.

He was lying on a park bench in Ohio surrounded by a sea of empty alcohol bottles.

For a moment, Rachel shut her eyes, counted to ten, and then opened them again. And no, the scene before her had not evaporated like the mirage she thought it must surely be, because she hadn't been aware that Castiel had ever sampled alcohol before, never mind tried to drown himself in it.

"Castiel?"

His reaction was delayed. Rachel knew it was next to impossible, but it had to be true: Castiel was drunk. Thoroughly, totally and completely drunk. She had never _heard_ of an angel getting drunk before. Of course, drinking was one of those indulgences banned to the Host, so even tasting alcohol was not a good thing, but actually consuming enough of it to lose control over your senses?

"Oh- Rachel. Hi." His voice- or rather, his vessel's- was more gruff than usual. And slurred. He tried to sit up and spin around so that he was sitting properly on the bench, but currently lacked the coordination to do so and ended up rolling off the wooden and iron composed contraption in a heap.

Rachel winced in sympathy and knelt down to help Castiel back onto the bench. "Here, careful- Castiel, what are you doing?" It must have been the thinly veiled shock in her voice that made him sober up just a little.

"It's an… Unfortunate habit I picked up from my time on earth." Castiel mumbled, adjusting his grip on the neck of a bottle. "Evidently it takes a great deal more alcohol to get an angel drunk than a human."

"I can see that." Rachel cast a cursory glance over the countless alcohol bottles and put a rough estimate of their number below one hundred but higher than fifty.

"I did this… I did this when I knew God was gone. I found a liquor store and drank it. I mean, literally. There was not a _drop_ of alcohol to be found in it once I was done." Castiel grinned briefly. "Rachel, sit- sit down." He scooted along the seat so that she could slide on as well, and once she had, he put his head down on her lap.

Rachel was, for a moment, stunned by the action and highly uncertain as to what she was supposed to do. Finally, she settled on doing what she'd done the day Raphael had beaten him to a pulp; slid her fingers into his hair and didn't speak.

She didn't need to. He did plenty of it.

"It's a human thing, to drink when something good or bad happens. I only… I only do it in times like these, though." Rachel could only assume that he meant when people close to him died or abandoned him. Castiel dropped the bottle he'd been holding suddenly, though, and grasped the wrist of the hand that was not currently entangled in his hair. Even in his less than coordinated state, he managed to wind his fingers through hers. "Thank you, Rachel."

She blinked down at him. "For what?"

"For… This." He waved at her with his free hand. "For being here. For having faith in me. Sometimes… Sometimes I don't have so much faith in myself anymore. It's nice to know that someone still does."

Rachel was touched to hear that her confidence in him was so important to him. She gave his hand a squeeze.

"It's no problem, Castiel. You'll always have it."

()()

Banal topics- that being, anything not related to the war- were hard to come by these days.

The weather in heaven depended on which heaven you were in. And in that heaven, the weather was typically constant unless the subject of that heaven decided to switch things up a bit. If there were any books or scrolls to be read, they'd already been read. Rachel supposed these sorts of topics worked for humans, but not angels.

One topic that was growing in popularity was to discuss what one had seen on earth if they'd been there recently. As the angels had been forbidden to set foot on earth for some 2000 plus years, they had missed out on a great deal of change. It was, to a degree, interesting to discuss the technological advances of the modern world, as well as the new absurd things humans did for entertainment (reality TV, a name which seemed to be contradictory to the content provided, was a popular source of curiosity).

Sometimes Rachel- desperate for conversation that didn't involve tactics or body counts- would join in. Sometimes she considered asking Castiel for clarification involving these references, hoping he might be able to shed light on them, but he was often busy or looking too tired to be of much help.

But today, today she'd seen something she needed to talk to him about.

Badly.

The last thing Rachel wanted was to sound like a vengeful gossip by spreading this around, but something had been… Eating at her, so to speak. She'd never used that particular turn of phrase before, but given the way it had clung to her mind like a dog sinks its teeth into a piece of meat, she thought it was appropriate.

The other night, Rachel had gone by the heaven that Tabris was known to frequent, a raucous and wild club from somewhere in America in the late sixties. Given her own preference for peace and quiet, Rachel couldn't understand why her sister was so drawn to it, but she supposed that everyone had their different tastes. God wouldn't have made it possible for everyone to have their own personal version of heaven if they were all going to picture it the same.

Rachel had picked her way through the club, knowing that the people roughhousing around her were probably all souls invited from other heavens (some people did kind of form their communities much like they did on earth), but was having trouble locating Tabris. Normally her sister would have sensed her arrival and greeted her by then, as she had in times before, but not now.

Rachel had been starting to consider that Tabris wasn't there and that she should, perhaps, check somewhere else, when she came across a sight that startled her in ways she would never care to be startled again, thank you very much.

Along the wall of the rather large club was a long row of round tables. Surrounding these tables were very soft, very big couches that curved around the tables. She'd sat on one before when Tabris had pulled her aside to talk to her outside the chaos of the dance floor. In the past, Rachel had noticed couples using these couches for different purposes, ranging from innocent kissing to full-blown sex.

What she had _never_ seen before, however, was her sister involved in any of these acts.

And lo and behold, there she was, her vessel's slacks tugged down around her ankles and her shirt unbuttoned and mostly off while her partner's face was between her legs.

Rachel's shock just got greater and greater as she took in the different factors. One, it was _Tabris_, who had always been a little wild (by angelic and now, apparently, human standards as well), but never promiscuous. Two, it was in a _club_, on a _couch_, for _everyone_ to see. Third, she was an _angel_, so _where_, precisely, had she _learned_ about the act itself, and four, was that _Daniel_ that was currently-?

Rachel had 'gotten out of dodge' like a 'bat out of hell'. She now understood those two human phrases better than any of the others she'd learned.

Point being: Rachel's mind had more or less been blown away by what she'd seen. It had been a mix of curious and horrifying (that second one on _several_ different levels). And most of all… Confusing.

In all of Castiel's discussions about free will, sexuality had never once come to the surface. It was generally understood that with free will came the ability to choose certain actions. Sex, however- at least to Rachel- seemed like rebellion simply for rebellion's sake. Sex had been more or less forbidden amongst the host of heaven in the past; it was lustful. And on a more neutral note, unnecessary. Angels did not pro-create; they were created by God. When He was still present, he would create a new generation of angels every so often. Rachel and Castiel were roughly the same age, but towards the younger end of the spectrum, while the archangels were the oldest.

So, if sex was not a base instinct for angels in order to reproduce, then were Tabris and Daniel (Rachel actually shivered a little when their names, in conjunction, brought a very clear picture to mind, and she knew she wouldn't be able to look them in the eye for weeks) having sex simply because they wanted to? Because they wanted to spite Raphael and the traditionalists at his side that would undoubtedly condemn them as lustful sinners that deserved the worst kind of punishment?

There was only one person that could clear up her confusion: The one who'd started them all down the path of free will in the first place.

"Castiel… Why are you here?"

Castiel was face down in the leather sofa of an office. The heaven belonged to a seven year-old girl who had died in 1932. Her heaven actually consisted of the entire house that she had grown up and eventually died in when it burned down, but Castiel was currently only utilizing her father's office.

"Because I didn't want anyone to find me for a few hours." His voice was muffled against the couch cushion.

"It's not important. I can come back later."

But Castiel sat up and shook his head. "I can handle non-important subject matter. Is it in any way related to the war?"

Rachel gave that some serious thought. Well, yes, technically; Tabris and Daniel (that image floated up again and she furiously squashed it down) wouldn't be… _Together_ in that sense if they weren't expressing free will, and they were expressing free will because they were currently in a war, the outcome of which would determine if they could _continue_ using it-

"_Directly_ related, Rachel." Castiel seemed to read her mind. "Directly as in, battles, skirmishes, tactics, casualties, injuries, Raphael or any of his allies."

"Oh. Then no, it's not."

"Wonderful." He motioned for her to join him on the couch, and she slid down next to him. They hadn't sat together like this, alone and in peace and quiet since the day before the war started. "So, what is it?"

Rachel tried several times to start the subject in a… Way that did not necessarily launch directly into the subject of sex. She really, really tried. But unfortunately, it just didn't happen, and soon enough she'd related the entire encounter to Castiel as quickly as she could get the words out. She refused to make eye-contact with him, and was fairly sure that her face was red.

Castiel was quiet for a time. Then, "Daniel… And Tabris? Really?"

"Apparently."

"Hm." He paused. "That's interesting."

Now Rachel whipped about to look at him.  
>"Are you serious? I just told you that Daniel and Tabris were engaging in an… <em>Involved<em> sexual act- _What exactly do you find so funny about that, Castiel?_"

Castiel had chuckled when she had said 'involved', most likely because of the shiver that had run through her and the expression on her face as that thrice-damned image surfaced in her mind again. "You seem alarmed, Rachel."

"I'm not _alarmed_, Cas, I'm-" She stopped, hesitated, and averted her eyes again. "I'm… A bit…" Castiel's smile faded.

"Confused?"

"…Yes."

"As to what?"

"Well… The _why_. I don't know- I mean-" Rachel bit her lip. "They- _We-_ lack the drive to reproduce though sex. So _why_ would they have been…?" Castiel stared at her for a moment.

"I would imagine that they are attracted to each other and wanted to-" He stopped and seemed to search for the right wording. "-to… Perhaps… Explore a more physical aspect to their relationship."

"But isn't that… Lustful?"

Castiel shifted in an almost nervous manner, in a way she wasn't certain she'd seen since the day before Raphael had summoned Castiel to him, two days before Castiel stood before Raphael and blasted him away and declared war on him and all who stood with him.

"I… Don't believe so." He said quietly, abruptly looking away to focus on a picture of a horse hanging on the wall nearby. "I… _I_ believe that when our Father condemned lust… He was condemning the simple desire for flesh. The desire only for someone else's body and the pleasure it can bring. Wanting someone for only the hollow and superficial and carnal. What I don't believe he was necessarily condemning was the… Powerful… Urges… That can arise when…"

Castiel stopped then, and his face was a little red. But Rachel was as curious as she ever was, and like that day on the bench when she had prodded him about what had happened in his encounter with Raphael, she wanted to know what he knew.

"When?" She prompted gently.

"When… A person values another not only for their body, but… But everything they are. When they want to enjoy… Certain intimacies… With one another because of the bond they share." His eyes cautiously met hers. "When they make each other content and happy in a way they didn't know they could be."

The question came so automatically that Rachel didn't really even think before asking it.

"Do I make you happy, Castiel?"

She heard his breath catch in his throat. For a moment, all was silent and still. Then-

"_Yes._"

Without warning, Castiel closed the space between them and pulled her into a kiss.

Rachel's mind went blank, white, empty, until she thought back on all of the times she'd seen humans doing this and tried to respond to the kiss, allowing it to deepen and for him to slip his tongue into her mouth. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she moved to straddle his lap.

It was such a rush that Rachel didn't really have time for second-thoughts or doubts or worries that this might not be the time or place. All she knew and cared about was that she wanted it, and clearly Castiel did too.

She shoved the trench coat from his shoulders and then the dress jacket beneath that too, hands jumping from shoulders to chest to undo the buttons on his shirt. He had already rid her of her vessel's jacket and was currently waiting for her to finish with the buttons so that he could pull her shirt off over her head.

Once he had, Rachel felt, just barely, a moment of numb panic. She had never been this exposed before. She had never been this intimately close to anyone before. She had never had sex. She had no idea what to do next. This was too much too fast, and what if she made a fool of herself and they both walked away from this feeling awkward and regretting the entire thing-?  
>Castiel gave her hips a squeeze. "Rachel?"<p>

Oh, her name had never sounded nicer than when he said it. "Huh?" Was all she could manage.

"Are you all right?"

She took a deep breath in. Then out. "I'm fine." But he was good at reading her; really good. And given the circumstances, it didn't take a lot of thought to realize that she was probably nervous. He leaned over and began to kiss her collarbone, sliding his tongue along the hard ridge before dipping down to nip at the top of her breast.

Rachel pulled back, stood up and moved to undo her jeans. Castiel did the same with his vessel's slacks, and she couldn't help but notice that neither of them seemed to be valuing eye-contact at that moment.

She kept her eyes on Castiel's neck as she sat and eventually lied back on the couch. He hovered over her, and the kiss he gave her this time was softer, gentler, though no less passionate than before. He didn't ask for reassurance, but rather locked eyes with her and tried to feel for any remaining, significant hesitation she might have.

Rachel made sure he didn't see any.

Castiel's breath was shallow as he reached down and removed his vessels boxers and then her panties. "Rachel… I… Are you… Sure? Are you sure you're… You want me to do this?" His caution was sweet, and she smiled.

"It's all right, Castiel. Go ahead."

And he did, sliding into her without further ado, only stopping when he heard an unmistakable hiss of pain leave her lips.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

Rachel grit her teeth. "I'm- I'm fine."

"We can stop."

"I'm _fine_, Castiel, just… Just give me a moment."

She shut her eyes and focused on the way the muscles of his back flexed under her fingers, the kisses he was pressing to her forehead and cheek and neck, trying to block the pain out until it could subside a little. She had been aware, previously, that sex could be painful, particularly when you'd never had it before, but as she'd never experienced this kind of pain before, she'd had no idea what to expect.

"Okay," She breathed. "Okay. I'm fine. Go."

"Are you sure?"

Rachel rolled her hips in response and was relieved to find that yes, the pain had dulled significantly and oh, _that_ felt good. Castiel seemed to think so too, because he groaned into her ear and, with only the slightest hesitation, began thrusting into her in earnest. For a moment, there was still some pain, and her vessel's long-enough-to-hurt nails dug into his skin, but then-

"_Cas!_" She gasped loudly as she felt him hit something inside her that sent stars dancing across her vision. He held himself up on one hand and curled the fingers of the other in her hair. She could feel his breath on her neck as he panted and groaned and forced himself deeper.

Rachel whimpered and clung tighter to him. "Cas," Were she more coherent, she would have been surprised to hear herself whine. "_Cas_, I-"

Her vision went white, and the last thing she was aware of was him curling his arm around her and pulling her to his chest before growling "_I love you_" into her ear.

()()

That day had been the peak of their relationship.

It all went downhill from there.

()()

Over the next few months, Castiel would find himself reconnecting with the Winchester brothers.

At first, it was nothing. Rachel was even happy that he was reconnecting with them, his friends. He clearly expressed a desire to see them again (And yet, at the same time, seemed remarkably hesitant to do so).

But then it was something.

Going down to earth every now and then to help Dean and Sam Winchester with something was one thing. But Castiel was starting to go every time they called. He was starting to make excuses and slip away.

"Dean believed that he found Gabriel's Horn of Truth."

"Sam told me they found the Ark of the Covenant."

Soon he went down for lesser issues. And the time he spent down there started to lengthen in a way that was not beneficial to his troops. One day, when Castiel was down helping the brothers with something, Nuriel and seven others were attacked not far from Eden, and all but one young female angel were wiped out. It was a bad, bad day, and it was made even worse by the fact that Castiel was not there.

When he found out what happened, he was every bit as distraught as he would have been if he'd been present when the news first came in, and maybe even more so because he hadn't been there to receive it.

"They call you a lot," Rachel noted, trying to keep any and all hints of disapproval from her tone.

"I know."

"And you always answer."

"I know."

"I know you know, Castiel. The question is what you intend to do about it."

Castiel sighed and bowed his head, hands folded, _back_ folded over in an expression of true depression. "I… Owe them a great deal, Rachel. You know that."

"But you can't just run down there every time they call. Especially-"

_Especially when it's not as important as what's going on right here and now. _

He seemed to hear that even though she didn't say it.

"I know."

Rachel sucked in a breath and forced herself not to get snippy. "All I'm saying… Is that you might want to explain to them the sort of situation we have here. And remind them that they should only call when absolutely necessary."  
>Castiel nodded wearily. "Right."<p>

A month passed, and it was clear he hadn't.

Rachel was agitated. She understood that the Winchesters had very pressing issues, but why couldn't they see that Castiel was busy? They couldn't help directly with the war, no. The only way they could help was not relying on Castiel so much for aid and taking him away from his troops when they needed him.

But however much it bothered her that Castiel was adding more stress onto his load, she knew that this was the kind of person Castiel was. These friends were dear to him, had showed him the path to freedom, and he wanted to help them it whatever way he could regardless of the detriment to himself. However much she didn't like it, Rachel somewhat grudgingly had to admire his dedication to his friends.

()()

When Balthazar returned to heaven, Rachel went blank.

He and Castiel had been preceded by a flurry of sudden information: Balthazar had faked his death and stolen countless weapons from heaven's arsenal including, but not limited to, Moses' Staff, Lot's Salt, Gabriel's Horn and the golden dagger crafted specifically to kill Atropos, Lachesis and Clotho. And to add insult to injury, he'd thrown himself headfirst into earthly indulgences whilst his brothers and sisters slaughtered one another in heaven.

When he appeared alongside Castiel, Rachel stared at him for the longest time.

Then, before either of them could do anything, Rachel strode up to her older brother and slapped him so hard across the face it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck.

"_We **mourned** for you,_ _you cowardly, idiotic, selfish, back-stabbing-_"

"Rachel, _Rachel!_" Castiel grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back. Balthazar looked a little sobered by the blow and the words, but not as bothered as she would have liked.

"_It's good to know you care so much for your family! You left us to rot! And to think I once thought you a good and honorable soldier! You're no better than some crossroads demon!_"

She wasn't certain which one- nor did she care- but one of those remarks seemed to hit home, and Rachel saw pain flicker through Balthazar's eyes as he regarded her.

Good. She hoped he was good and pained. He deserved it.

Balthazar cast a brief glance at Castiel and disappeared. Only when he had gotten far enough away did Castiel release Rachel from his hold.

"You hurt him." Castiel's tone, to her disbelief, was disapproving.

"_I_ hurt _him?_ What _hurt_, Castiel, as I'm sure you recall, _was mourning **him** because we thought he'd been killed and lost to us forever!_ And now we find out he was on earth indulging in everything under the damn _sun_, _selling the very weapons that could give us the advantage over Raphael!_"

"Stop _shouting!_"

"_HOW ARE YOU NOT FURIOUS OVER THIS?_" Rachel shrieked. Castiel didn't respond, only giving her a hard look, and she forced herself down to room-level tone. "He _left_ us, Castiel. He left us, made us think he was _dead_, and then we find out that he _abandoned us_. How are you not _enraged_ with him?"

"I _am!_" Castiel snarled. "I assure you, Rachel, when I found out what Balthazar was doing, I was _enraged_, I was _livid_, I was _disgusted_, but all of that was trumped by the fact that my brother was alive and I _hadn't lost him forever!_"

The two stood huffing and puffing and glaring at each other for a time.

"You're not _seriously_ letting him back in?"

"Yes, Rachel, I _seriously_ am." Castiel retorted. When she opened her mouth to claim the obvious- he'd let them down before and there was a high, high chance he would do it again- he cut her off. "I will keep an eye on him. I will make sure he stays faithful to the cause. He will not stray again."

"And if he does?" Rachel challenged.

"Then I will take responsibility for it." Castiel's shoulders slumped then, and he looked more tired than she'd ever seen him. "I don't want to lose any more people than I have to, Rachel." He said, eyes pleading for her to understand.

Rachel felt her traitorous heart twitch in sympathy for him. Balthazar was her brother too, and his loss had been like an open wound for so long.

Too long.

"Do what you want, Castiel. You are the leader, after all." She took off without another word.

The incident with Balthazar put an even deeper strain on hers and Castiel's relationship. Rachel simply couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Castiel was accepting him back into the fold when he was a back-stabbing traitor who had left them all with nothing.

How could he _tolerate_ this? She understood that he loved Balthazar, that they were brothers and it would take a lot for actual _hate_ to set in, and even she didn't hate him. But Rachel couldn't stand behind Castiel's decision to keep in contact with Balthazar or allow him to help. She wanted to turn him out, wanted to really _hurt_ him so that he could have some grasp on the pain they had all felt when he had "_died_". This was a point of contention between her and Castiel, and compiled on top of the fact that he was still answering the Winchesters almost whenever they called.

And what was more: Castiel had _changed_.

Rachel had noticed the dips in his mood following Balthazar's death. They'd gotten more and more frequent as the months dragged on. He was almost constantly tired, and when he was tired he was irritated, and since she was the one who was around him the most, it was usually her that Castiel snapped at. If he was still drinking, though, she saw no sign of it.

But Rachel cared about Castiel. He was under a great deal of stress, and sometimes it seemed like she was the only one conscience of that. She dealt with his temper and tried to keep him calm. She still had all of her faith in him, and knew that if anyone could pull them all out of this mess alive, it was Castiel.

()()

One year and five months into the civil war, Rachel knew that something was seriously wrong.

The smell of sulfur clung to Castiel's jacket. He was evasive as to accounting for where he was when he went missing at odd times. He would leave heaven fine and then come back exhausted, like he'd fought a dozen battles. More than once he came back with injuries.

And he wouldn't tell her a thing.

"I'm fine," Castiel muttered, swatting her away when she tried to examine the injuries further. "It's nothing." Once, Rachel plucked up the courage to confront him directly about it.

"I think you're lying. Where were you?"

"Nowhere that you need to worry about." He growled.

She left it alone because and _only_ because she knew this would be one thing she couldn't poke out of him with some persistence. There was no point in working on Castiel's nerves when it wouldn't yield anything useful.

And then, finally, a day that Rachel always assumed would come came.

That expression- that unmistakable expression that always came when one of the Winchesters was calling to him- crossed his face and then disappeared instantaneously. He would pretend it never happened for now, and then the moment they were done discussing the attack on one of Raphael's garrisons, he would excuse himself and slip off down to earth.

But not this time.

"I'll go."

Castiel looked surprised at the offer. "That's… Thank you, Rachel, but I can-"

"You're busy, Castiel. And if they really need help, I don't think they'll mind if they get it from me, do you?"

The expression on his face clearly read _Oh yes they will mind_, but Rachel gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll take care of it." And before he could protest- and it looked like it would be a weak one- she headed down to earth, easily divining the location from the dozens of time Castiel had traveled there.

Well, to make a long story short, it didn't go as well as it could have.

Dean Winchester was an arrogant ass. Rachel had been perfectly polite when she'd arrived, and had offered to help. He was the one that had treated her like she was some doormat secretary and clearly she couldn't be as useful as Castiel. And in her defense, she had only lost her temper and started shouting when he and his brother had made it perfectly clear that they _didn't_ understand the sort of stress Castiel was under.

And of course, Castiel had swooped in, evidently sensing that things weren't going to go well, and stopped her mid-tirade.

"_GO_." He'd momentarily broken composure in front of his friends, and Castiel quickly caught himself and softened his tone. "I'll come when I can."

Rachel's stare had bored into him for a moment longer before she disappeared back to heaven and started counting the minutes until Castiel's return and the beginning of the lecture she would undoubtedly get for browbeating his friends.

Four hours, five minutes and fifty-two seconds.

"Rachel-"

"I was _perfectly polite_ until that-" Rachel amended herself immediately. "-until _Dean_ made it very clear that I wasn't fit to-"

"_Rachel_." Castiel sighed. "I know. I _know_ he can be abrasive. I'm the only angel, with the exception of Joshua, that hasn't tried to kill him or convince him to accept his role as Michael's vessel."

"So that gives him the right to speak to me the way he did?" Rachel demanded.

"_No_, Rachel, it doesn't. I just-"

"Because that was the impression I got when you snapped at me like I was going after him for no reason!"

"_Shut up!_"

Castiel and Rachel both froze in place. Rachel looked like she'd been slapped. Castiel looked like the one who'd done the slapping and now felt unbearably guilty over it.

"I- I'm sorry."

Rachel stared at him soberly.

"So am I."

()()

Not half an hour later, Castiel left heaven and went down to earth.

Rachel's anger with him had been peaked. And she wanted answers.

She followed him down to earth, America, Missouri, and finally a place called Evergreen. Once you got a hold of an angel's signature it wasn't easy to lose.

Rachel alighted next to a rundown building. Judging from the bars on the visible windows, it was a prison. Castiel was somewhere inside.

And judging from the smell, so was a nest of demons.

Her first thought was an alarmed one of _Can he handle that many demons at once? Should I follow him in?_

But something wasn't right.

Rachel scoured the perimeter of the building for maybe ten minutes and found no demons on patrol outside. They were all inside, doing something. And since there was no noise to be heard, they were not being killed by Castiel.

So what was going on?

In a twist worthy of her Father's intervention, the answer came from Rachel's right, from a window low to the ground and half occluded by the ground.

"Hello darling, did you get the milk?" Came a man's dry inquiry. "You were gone a while, there. I was getting worried." Rachel swiftly pressed herself against the wall, then crouched down, took a chance and peered in through the window to get a look inside.

She saw Castiel and another man.

Then she saw the hideous visage below the human mask and immediately pulled back.

That was _Crowley_.

Everyone knew the King of the Crossroads and now of Hell, the one who'd helped the Winchesters stop the apocalypse simply because he didn't want Lucifer getting tired of using humans as playthings and then turning to demons for his own sick amusement. Crowley was all about self-preservation, a cowardly bastard amongst cowardly bastards.

And Castiel was dealing with him.

"I can't always come immediately when you call. I do have duties more important than being at your beck and call." Crowley snorted dryly, and when Rachel dared another peek, she saw irritation written all over his face.

"And yet you seem to have plenty of time for your pets." He grunted. "Tell me, how are the boys? Still as idiotic as I remember?"

Castiel glared at him and didn't answer.

"Fine, be pissy about it then. Did you get any leads?" Castiel seemed to hesitate, but then answered.

"Eve has been traveling along the northern half of America, and has created a number of new monsters along the way."  
>"As well as some of the old favorites, hm?" Crowley moved out of sight from the window, but Castiel remained in one spot. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem. The Winchesters are hunting her with a vengeance, yes?"<p>

"They're currently in the process of procuring phoenix ashes."

"And not, as I would hope, for the sake of a very interesting baptism?" Something like anger flit through Castiel's eyes, and Rachel assumed that it had something to do with the mockery of a traditional religious ritual.

"They believe it can destroy her."

"Oh goody! Let's let Moose and the Mouth destroy the only possible lead we have on purgatory!"

The world seemed to drop out from under Rachel at that moment.

Purgatory?  
><em>Purgatory?<em>

No one had ever found purgatory. In heaven, it was regarded as the dumping ground for souls that were tainted, but not in a way that made them candidates for hell. People that had changed into something not necessarily by their own choice and maybe, on their own, deserved heaven, but their actions as that new creature were more deserving of hell. Purgatory cleansed the souls of their acquired filth.

The pieces to the puzzle began sliding into place so easily that Rachel couldn't believe she'd never seen it before.

Castiel was using souls for strength, as the rumors went. This was evidenced by how she had seen him following his initial outcry against Raphael: So exhilarated by the rush of power the soul gave him that he almost forgot what attacking Raphael and drawing that line meant for him and everyone else.

Castiel was working with Crowley to find purgatory. They were in the middle of a war against an archangel and they needed all of the strength they could possibly get, and so Castiel was helping Crowley find purgatory because there were hundreds of _thousands_ of souls there, and they could all be used to-

To...

The look in his eyes a year and a half ago.

_"I… Have a plan_."

Rachel felt her vessel's stomach roll sharply, and she felt that this must be what it was like before humans threw up.

()()

Rachel laid on the edge of the pond in her preferred heaven and wept.

Castiel.

How could he have fallen so low? How could he have allowed himself to turn into this kind of person, one that would sink to any low for the sake of victory?

Rachel knew Castiel. And she knew that whatever he had done, he had done for the sake of helping her and everyone else in the Host and all the innocent people on earth that would be wiped out in the apocalypse that Raphael would usher in. She knew that once, once his intentions and his methods had been pure. She knew that deep down, he did it because he loved his friends and family and wanted to save them.

That was the Castiel she knew.

That was the Castiel she had put her faith in.

That was the Castiel she loved.

What was she supposed to do? Keep quiet?

No.

Rachel had to confront him. She had to ask him directly if he really planed to… To… Do what it was she thought he might be trying to do. Because if he was, it was, literally, the blasphemy to end all blasphemy, and she had to try and stop him.

And whatever happened, happened.

-End

()()

…

…

OH GOD, MY WRISTS AND ARMS HURT.

What was meant to be a two-to-three page story took on a life of its own. I LITERALLY worked from noon on Tuesday to three AM on Wednesday. Straight. I always knew I'd get carpal tunnel, but I think I just sped up the process.


End file.
